A huge, heavy mirror with bevelled edges hangs above my sofa. I would have preferred a picture, but the mirror was already in situ when I moved in, and its heaviness made it almost impossible to move, so I reluctantly conceded defeat, the mirror stayed put and the picture went somewhere else.
That was early autumn 2015, when the sun still hung relatively high, and shone squarely into the room. Within a month it was lower and had moved further to the left. And that's when I began noticing the rainbows, dancing and refracting around the room! That bevelled mirror was sending iridescent, rainbow-striped strips of light across the carpet, across me, and on a slow march along walls. For a few minutes they would variegate my vine, then throw its shadow into colourful relief... then move on, casting rainbows across a monochrome snowy picture. As I sat eating a late lunch or settled down to write I would track the rainbows, rapt, especially on days when the sun would appear in sudden bursts, hide and re-appear.
What an unexpected gift... thanks to an unwanted mirror!
So this year, as autumn moved inexorably into winter, days shortened and darkened and temperatures fell, I at least knew I could look forward to rainbows! And the mirror has not disappointed, as some lucky visitors and those who have seen my 'rainbow selfie' will testify. And even though they're not surprises anymore, those rainbows are still a gift, and I, still rapt, still experience a little leap of playful glee within me as they dance around the room.
All this, thanks to an unwanted mirror I'd tried to discard... There has to be a moral in there, I'm sure...